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We have been notified by Jimmy Thompson's brother, Dick, that Jimmy died in 2017. This is all the information we have. If someone knows more or has an obituary for Jimmy, please let us know.
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After Jimmy graduated from Broughton, he went to Wake Forest University on a golf scholarship. After Wake, he moved to Australia where he had a successful career in amateur golf and finance and real-estate. He returned to the US at age 50 and opened a golf shop in Cocoa Beach, FL where he lived until his passing.
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Jimmy Maynard
The news of Jimmy's passingg solves a mystery not only for me but for his 1961 golf teammates. As we would see each other over the years we always asked if anybody had hearad from Jimmy. We all had heard, but not confirmed , that he was in Australia. I last saw Jimmy at the 1962 GGO and I seem to remember he told me he was going to leave Wake Forest but i cannot confirm that he did so.
Jimmy was clearly the best plalyer on our team and one the best young amateurs in the state. He was a fierce competitor and probably the best sand player I ever played with or agaiinst. He was best in match play events ( head to heaad competition ) . Therre was another really good young player in the state who had received a little more publicity than Jimmy but every time he played Jimmy head to head Jimmy prevailed.
Rest in peace, Red, and keep it in the short grass as you usually did.
J. Maynard
Charles Styron
As I mentioned in a very recent post for Rick Suberman, Jimmy was known to me affectionately as “Red Dog” (or sometimes, as Jimmy Maynard mentioned in his post, simply as “Red”). I knew him primarily through the Carolina Country Club where I spent a fair amount of time playing golf in Junior High School. In High School, our paths crossed less frequently because I spent far less time playing golf, but I would often hear about Jimmy from my father, who was an inveterate golfer himself. Jimmy did join Rick and me for a round at Cheviot Hills in the summer of 1960, and he torched us royally. He could really play!
At one point in our Senior Year, Jimmy and one of his friends (I don’t remember who) challenged my father and one of his regular partners to a match. They played for money, of course, and my father reported that Jimmy had been so confident of winning that when he and his partner lost, Jimmy had to drive home to get the money to pay off his debt. My father and his partner waited for Jimmy at the 19th hole, and they recounted this story with great relish, undoubtedly adding embellishments. The story that my father never did tell, however, is that Red Dog got him back on a subsequent occasion. Naturally, Red told that story with equal relish and hyperbole. This is the way that many men play golf as well as other sports, especially when they are really good players. The trash talk never stops, and the victory tales are as tall as the sky. Jimmy was such a player (and talker). I remember envying his skills, but even more than his skills, I envied his bravado. He could talk a great game, and then he could go out and back it up. Halcyon Days all over again.
HAIL JIMMY THOMPSON HAIL